Her Lie in August
by LittleFics
Summary: "The difference between the love of a person's life and their soul mate was quite simple. One was a choice, and Minerva McGonagall did not choose Dougal McGregor."
1. Reverie

**Disclaimer:** LittleFics does not own any part of this story. Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling, and is not LittleFics intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Special thanks absolutely must be given to my beta reader SelfiesWithSprinkles for helping me bring this story to life in the best way possible. It has been an absolute joy and an enormous help to work with her.

 **Her Lie in August**

Chapter One: Reverie

Minerva McGonagall was quite aware that there stood a fine line between a dream and a nightmare. It wasn't the kind of division that knocked one about the face with evil, growling monsters, or, on the other end, cloudless, sunny skies, but the kind that was found subtly in the quiet of night time- a line that her dazed fantasies frequently hopped back and forth between.

She suffered from a reoccurring pain. It was always the same dream and then always the same nightmare. It was always _him_.

In her dream, _a young man stood exactly across from her, looking tall and strong against the midsummer sky. His deep chestnut curls quivered softly in the breeze, and Minerva smiled when she felt the same wind gust up to caress her cheek. The young man, who wore red tartan, began to beckon her forward with a familiarly cheeky grin on his freckled face._

For a moment, Minerva wanted to tell him no, that he simply looked too boyish with that mischievous glint in his golden, green eyes for her to go anywhere with him, but she didn't because she also thought that was beautiful. Her heart aflutter with what was most certainly love, she walked towards him.

" _The sea," He called as she came closer. "Come, Minerva, let's run to the sea."  
_  
 _Minerva wanted nothing more than to make him happy. She was sure that if he had wanted to run to the moon and back, she would have gone, and so she began to move faster towards her lover with his outstretched hands. Minerva suddenly needed to feel his sturdy arms wrapped around her, she needed to smudge the dirt off his nose and kiss his sunburnt lips, but that was not to be. Their fingertips nearly touched and then it was all gone.  
_  
She woke to find herself a year more than fifty years older and quite alone, like all the other nights, with tears leaking from her eyes and sharp pangs in her heart. Her weak body had betrayed her sound mind and she noticed that her fingers were reaching out to the empty sheets on the other side of the even emptier bed.

Terribly solitude and in the cool dark- that was always when she considered her dream to have faded into a nightmare. It was when she realized he was gone, only to live anymore in her memory, and when she remembered that she alone had thwarted herself in such a desperately perfect love- that she was condemned.

And then, Minerva felt ashamed for more reasons than what were in the dream, so she drew her legs up underneath the sheets and linked her elbows around them in a rather sorry attempt to comfort herself.

Of course, there could be no comfort. Nights like those were always a mess and there was no getting out of it.

She found a horrible sense of betrayal in the fact that she only dreamed about the dead man she had shared a summer with, rather than the dead man with whom she had shared a life.

Minerva cursed herself for never finding her dear Elphinstone in her dreams.

There were times when she couldn't figure why, for she had cared deeply for him. Minerva's late husband had been so wonderfully good, so deeply understanding- so very willing to be her second choice when he knew she had left another behind. She saw it in his eyes. And for that, she respected him, certainly, perhaps, she even loved him the same way… But then there were other times when Minerva knew exactly why Eliphinstone couldn't haunt her dreams and she shivered at her own callousness. It was due to the sickening truth that she loved him only because she forced herself to. It wasn't in the same way, at all- it was a different kind of love.

Minerva was a sensible woman, and yet she couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't fair to her dead husband. That it didn't do justice to him or his memory to think in such a fickle-minded way. But, as often as she woke from that nightmare in the very middle of the lonely night, Minerva had much time to think. And through her long periods of reflection, she had come to but one, single truth.

The difference between the love of a person's life and their soul mate was quite simple. One was a choice, and Minerva McGonagall did not choose Dougal McGregor.

His name passed through her lips traitorously. Nobody was there to hear it, but Minerva was, and sometimes that was more deafening, so she still bit her tongue and tried to ignore the feeling of calm that overcame her through the sound. For some reason he seemed so real and alive to her, so much so that she felt that if she closed her eyes and opened them a moment later, she would be standing beside him on the Orkney Cliffs again.

It struck her very strange how all the many days, months, even years of her life had gotten swirled around, mixed together- lost in time- when every single moment of that summer was perfectly etched into her mind.

She was just a young lass- only eighteen years old, it was 1953, and the very last thing she was looking for was _love_.

* * *

 **A/N:** This is my first attempt at a chapter fic and I'm not really sure how it's going to turn out so if it does not meet your expectations, I'm sorry. This story is going to be a fairly short one about Minerva and Dougal's summer together. Please tell me what you think so far and if you're even interested in this type of thing. I want to improve as a writer more than you can imagine so any feedback, criticism and not, is greatly appreciated. Thanks so much!


	2. That Old Car Allure

**Disclaimer:** LittleFics does not own any part of this story. Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling, and is not LittleFics intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

 **Her Lie in August**

Chapter Two: That Old Car Allure

The plan, to begin with, was to spend one last, glorious summer together before, at the end of it, they went their separate ways to lead their separate lives. Minerva, having long since known the kind of work she wished to devote herself to, had already secured a position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry. But Poppy, on the other hand, was far less calculated, and had yet to decide just exactly where she was going.

Needless to say, their plan went slightly awry.

The summer already turned out to be one of the hottest Scotland had ever seen the likes of, and the two old friends were drawing on each other's nerves so severely that a simple look in the wrong direction could send the other off her hinge.

And so, when Poppy sighed with that _painfully_ dramatic air, Minerva was practically forced to slam her book shut. She glared at the girl from her plush armchair.

"What _are_ you on about?" she asked.

Poppy now hung round a post on Minerva's four poster-bed, fanning at the sweat on her chest. She looked as if she were very annoyed for a moment, but then let her head roll back with lethargy.

"I'm bored and it's hot."

Minerva shrugged passively. "Sounds personal."

"Does it?"

Then came another prolonged silence, in which Minerva opened her book again and Poppy flailed backwards onto the bed- for the heat, the future, or perhaps a combination of both, was wearing harshly down on their friendship. Of course, they had always been opposites, and more often than not, they found each other insufferable, but for some reason, that sort of relationship kept them sane.

"Listen, Booksy-"

Poppy always called her 'Booksy.' Firstly, because it sounded much less stuffy, as she had decided many years ago, than Minerva, secondly, because it was usually the way Minerva was found, but most importantly, because it drove her mad.

"-I can't sit in this house staring at the walls any more! Now, you may be a vampire, but some of us are far less fortunate and need _actual_ sunshine. And, for god's sake, _air_!"

"Well, we can hardly get outdoors without going downstairs and I'm certainly not doing that. My _mother_ is down there."

Poppy rolled her eyes. It was such a Minerva-ish thing to do- to stay welled up in a blazing hot room for fear of possibly having to speak a word to her mother. Because she was fearless in nearly every other way, all of the precautions taken to avoid Mrs. McGonagall seemed quite silly.

Of course, Minerva's mother was a spiteful woman.

Her words were always laced with ice, and, although her presence was reserved, she could whip a person with her tongue so effectively that it left them practically begging for more. She had a strange face. Which made it quite difficult to decide whether or not she was beautiful. Naturally, she was pretty, but there was a certain distinction between the two that was hard to place a finger on. And still, her face had a look of such faded elegance that even strangers on the street often wanted to stop and ask, _'What on earth happened to you?'_

The honest answer, if they ever dared, would startle them, for it was the truths, rather than the lies, in the McGonagall family, that were shocking. The truth was Mr. McGonagall.

"Who said anything about going downstairs?" Poppy continued devilishly.

Minerva followed the other girl's eyes to the open window on the far side of the room. They were three stories up and she wasn't about to string her bed sheets along and risk a broken neck climbing down- she told Poppy as such.

"But what about-"

"-Don't say it." Minerva interrupted once more. "I know exactly what you're going to say, Pol, and I'm not doing it. I'm not using magic to get down there. Absolutely not!"

"Why? There aren't any muggles around- apart from your father. Oh and he promised me, you and I could drive the Cadillac down through the village! Wouldn't that be fun?"

Minerva twisted a stray string on the hem of her skirt. She thought it would be rather enjoyable to take Poppy, who hadn't been raised by any form of muggle and therefore, never been in a car before, through the estate in one. And so after only a few more moments of begging, Minerva huffed in aggravated agreement.

"Alright. Just this once," she said sternly. "But I drive, at least until we get to a safe area, and- and you have to be quiet for an hour when we get back. No talking."

"Naturally."

They both nodded and then smiled, taking each other's hand and apperating straight to the garage without another thought.

The place was empty, apart from a large mass with a tarp over it in the center. It seemed to have collected water since the last of the servants resigned in 1944, and it smelled of mildew. Minerva, feeling slightly repulsed, wondered how long it had been since somebody had actually started up the poor old thing. She remembered quite clearly her father, the good Minister, swearing off such luxuries after the horror of the war. That had to have been the last time.

Poppy scrunched up her nose. "Do all cars smell like this?"

"No, just the old ones. Here, help me pull this off."

They took adjacent sides of the tarp and threw it away from the 1940 Cadillac Series 62. Despite its age, it was still just as stunning as Minerva recalled from her childhood and she was suddenly overcome with fond memories of her grandfather letting her steer from his lap. She unhooked the keys from their post and placed her foot a little uncertainly on the brake, quite relieved when the car started rumbling to life.

"We've got freedom and open road in the world, Pol. Where would you like to go?" Minerva said, and then quickly added, "Taking into account the petrol limitation, of course."

"I want to see where the tenants live."

Minerva whipped her head around so quickly to stare down Poppy that a pain shot through her neck. The tenant's homes were not exactly an attraction. Minerva could think of at least twenty other sites on the estate that she would much rather spend the day exploring.

 _"Why?"_

"I don't know, I just do." Poppy shrugged. "I suppose I've always wanted to see how real muggles live."

"My family does live like real muggles." Minerva retorted.

And it was true, in some ways, they did, but Poppy still looked at her friend dubiously and as if she were very much amused. She felt Minerva often had a skewed view of what a normal life really was- on account of the girl's equally privileged and unprivileged upbringing.

Minerva managed a slightly defensive shrug and pulled the shift into gear. Simply because there was nothing else to do, she let Poppy have her way.

"Fine," she said. "But you should know that it's not anything impressive."

Poppy was not perturbed, and so Minerva pushed on the gas with purposeful force. The old car lurched forward and Poppy seemed a little unsure, but the old thing eventually began to bounce along the road, happily, to the housing- which was quite a far trip away from the main house. They rode in silence, the warm air brushing through their hair as they went. Minerva was just beginning to enjoy herself as much as Poppy was when a horrible popping sound came from the front of the car and it started to roll on its on own, coming to sluggish stop just out of reach of a shady tree.

"Damn," Minerva hissed. "Stay in the stupid, bloody, old car, Pol!"

She climbed out from the seat and looked at the thing hopelessly. She was no car expert, but she was quite sure that the sound it had just emitted did not bode well, and now they were stuck, perhaps an hour walking distance from the manor- not to mention, it was hot.

In a fury, she kicked the front tire, and, suddenly, there came a loud whistle. Minerva spun clutching her heart to find a young man, wearing a straw hat and carrying a fishing pole, watching her with obvious amusement.

"You're not going to get it started like that, miss." He laughed. "I don't know much about cars, but I can take a look at it if you'd like."

Minerva eyed the man uncertainly. He was a complete stranger with a funny outfit, but he appeared to be harmless enough and she certainly was in no position to turn the help down. Still, she had never been quite fond of such strangers.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"McGregor, miss. Dougal McGregor," said the young man, pointing to the hood of the car. "May I?"

Minerva just stared, but Dougal ploughed on, because now he would look silly if he didn't.

"Like I said, the only thing I know about cars is that they break down- a lot. My da' borrowed a car once to take me and mum to the fair and, of course, it stopped running before we could make it home." He walked over to the hood, aware that Minerva's eyes were hooked on his every move. "We had to wait right there on the side of the road until morning, but that was alright with me, I sure thought it was fun."

Minerva continued to stare. But it wasn't a hostile stare anymore; amusement had taken the place of hostility.

"Well," she said at last, uncrossing her arms and taking a few steps towards him, "I don't want that to happen. Not today, at least."

"I didn't think so."

He wore a crooked smile, thoroughly relieved that he had gotten a word out of the standoffish girl that stood before him. It wasn't much, and he still wished she wouldn't scowl at him in that manner, but then again, he did not know her, and perhaps, the scowl was only directed at the car- the car which was now smoking.

Dougal, still attempting a calm resolve, hurried to pull the hood up. When he did, the smoke erupted upwards in a great cloud. He stumbled backwards, covered in soot and coughing avidly.

"What," cried Minerva, in a voice almost as frantic as her face, "was _that_?"

Dougal winced. "Overheated engine, I believe."

"That's the problem, then?"

"Yep. Yep, I would say it is." He placed both blackened hands on his knees and continued to hack. "Good old engine trouble. That's always the ticket, isn't it?"

Suddenly, Dougal heard a snort come from her direction. He looked up to find the girl biting her lip in an obvious attempt to conceal laughter, but as soon as he looked at her, it came spilling from her red lips without trepidation.

"Are you- do you think this is funny?"

Minerva shook her head, although she continued to chuckle. "No," she managed, "no, of course, not."

"Because- because it really seems like you do."

Minerva laughed even harder. He was standing, chest puffed up mockingly and with a feigned hurt in voice. She reached under her neck and untied the silky, cream scarf that had been around her head.

"Here," she said, sucking in her laughter and giving him a sturdy look, "it's my turn to help."

She began to gently wipe the soot away from his face noting how he did not stray away from her touch, how he had, perhaps leant into it and then, as suddenly as it had come, her amusement faded. Something else took its place, something that she was certain she believed in. It frightened her, in its own way.

She pulled away quickly, dropping the cloth into his hands. "You should probably get home and wash up. My little scarf isn't going to go very far on you."

"I suppose not." He held the thing out to her but Minerva motioned for him to keep it. A stained scarf was no use to her anyhow. "Well, I am sorry I couldn't be of more help, miss. I think you should be fine to drive it back to where it came from in a few minutes."

Minerva nodded, watching closely as he picked up his fishing pole and hat. He had such beautiful green eyes, and when they caught her own, she felt her face grow even hotter.

"Have a nice day."

"Goodbye, then."

Just like that, Dougal McGregor was on his way again, fishing pole thrown over his shoulder, her scarf held tightly in his hand. Minerva's fingers wriggled at her side, for some reason she wanted to call after him and say that she wanted him to stay; But that was completely ridiculous, they were strangers and he was a muggle. With a huff, she climbed back into the car.

"What the hell was that?"

Minerva started. She had completely forgotten that Poppy was still in the car and was even more horrified upon the realization that she had seen everything.

"He said we should be fine to drive home in a while."

Poppy continued to stare at her friend with a knowing grin. "That's not what I meant."

"I don't what you're talking about, Pol."

But Poppy knew and it made her happy.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope you enjoyed. Please tell me what you're feeling so far!


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